The Elevator That Knew Too Much

I chill with people almost half my age. They bring the youth; I bring the illusion of eternal youth. Either way, good genetics let me get away with it.

Back when I was an analyst at JPMorgan Chase, every elevator conspired to ditch me, leaving me stranded with a model who looked like she’d meant to walk a runway, not an office hallway.

Before anything else, she needed to know what to call her new elevator buddy. Then, like a scammer verifying my senior discount, my age.

When she found out, she looked at me like I’d just embezzled millions and said, “WHAT?! You can get away with it!”

That was the exact second I knew—hacking the biological clock wasn’t just luck; it was a crime so next-level, even my high school photos look older than me. 🤭